The South Korean fans at the stadium saw Lin Feng's gesture as well. Their brains seemed to short-circuit, and they failed to react immediately.
By the time they finally understood what had happened, the South Koreans instantly flew into a rage:
"Fuck, that kid is definitely provoking us!"
"How dare he?"
"I'm furious! Where are our Korean players? Why is no one stepping up to teach these Chinese a lesson?"
The South Korean fans were practically dying of anger!
They had come to watch their team crush weak opposition, only to find that not only had they failed to crush the weak, they were being crushed by them instead.
And this was at their own home stadium, where they were being humiliated by a team they had never even bothered to take seriously before. Countless South Koreans felt both grief and fury, wishing they could transform into players on the pitch and personally teach those hateful Chinese a lesson.
But that was obviously impossible. The South Korean internationals on the field already represented the highest level of South Korean football.
If even these men could not do it, then going on themselves would only make them look even more ridiculous.
Since nothing else could be done, they could only rage helplessly, venting their dissatisfaction through curses and boos.
For a time, thunderous boos erupted from the stands.
But to Lin Feng, those boos sounded especially pleasant. The louder the South Koreans booed, the more it proved that they had been thoroughly rattled.
Making South Koreans, whose skin was thicker than city walls, lose their composure was such a wonderful deed that it naturally had to continue.
The consecutive goals conceded made the South Korean coach unable to sit still. He quickly made a substitution, taking off Number 14 Kim